Unforgettable
by azqwest
Summary: MerDer AU; Derek and Meredith are married, but Derek doesn't remember having a wife. He doesn't remember Meredith.
1. Chapter 1

(Guess I need to remind everyone that I do not lay claim to anything GA- or Shonda-related.)

"_Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole_

Words and Music by Irving Gordon

Unforgettable, that's what you are

Unforgettable though near or far

Like a song of love that clings to me

How the thought of you does things to me

Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way

And forever more, that's how you'll stay

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Unforgettable in every way

And forever more, that's how you'll stay

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am unforgettable too

_Ch 1: In flight_

His fingers drifted toward the scar. It was a recent habit he had developed. The sizable patch of new hair growth around his ear still felt strange. The faint pink line creasing it curved around his ear and toward the back of his scalp. He didn't think about the other scars. Sights and sounds of the automobile crash that caused them still filled his brain three months after the fact. It had been a fight to get the doctors' clearance to fly today.

Mark Sloan noticed the movement of Derek's hand. He recognized the action for what it was. "Derek."

"Hmm?"

Mark slid the report across the small table separating their seats. "Shep!"

"I can hear you." Derek reached out and pulled the report toward him. He didn't bother glancing at the cover or contents. Not yet.

"I couldn't stop Lindsey in time. The rag paid her $50,000 to spread her...knowledge and the newspaper's lawyers yawned when I threatened to sue." Mark accepted the glass of scotch from the flight attendant. He always enjoyed traveling with Derek He always served the best booze on his jet. Mark waited for the flight attendant to serve Derek his coffee and return to the galley before continuing. "You should think about having your one-night stands sign confidentiality agreements." Using his best lawyer's voice, he handed a manila folder to Derek.

"I'll think about it," Derek sipped his coffee. Accepting the folder, he opened it to see a tabloid article headlined 'My Night of Love with Derek Shepard.' He read the article, disgust rising at Lindsey's mercenary personality and the intrusion into his personal life. He had his fill of the media after the accident, and from the volumes of clippings his office maintained, apparently before it too. If he even glanced at a woman, their photo appeared in the papers. "Maybe you should draft something up."

"Already did," Mark held a half-inch thick stack of documents in his hand. "This should last you a few weeks. Let me know when you need more." Mark was familiar with the particulars of Derek's night with Lindsey from the bimbo herself. Attempting to scare the shit out of her with a lawsuit threat, her deposition had been informative. Having spotted Derek at a club, with dollar signs spinning in her eyes, she made a beeline for 'Moneybags' as she called him. The stenographer had coughed at the name as she had taken down her testimony. 'Moneybags' had been easy pickings. Lindsey was tall and curvaceous with short red hair, and she had known Derek preferred redheads and brunettes. Mark and his staff had talked a furious Derek out of suing simply by pointing out how the New York media had made him into a sexual athlete over the years. Lindsey could have tripled her fee if he had taken her to court. It had been poor timing on Derek's part that she bagged him the night before the accident.

"Excuse me gentlemen," the flight attendant set down a small Baccarat cut crystal vase of lavender on the table between the two men before refilling Derek's coffee cup. Mark declined a second scotch. He'd need a clear head once they were on the ground.

Their fragrance filled the air, giving Derek a curious sense of peace. "What is that?" he gestured toward the floral display. The scent settled into a distant corner of his memory. Distant enough where he was aware of it, but couldn't see it. For some reason, he wanted to touch it.

"Lavender, Mr. Shepard. And 15 minutes til we land." With a smile, the flight attendant moved away to another part of the cabin.

15 minutes. "What's with the lavender?"

"It's your jet so clearly something you had requested..."

"Before the accident..."

"Before the accident," Mark nodded. "Read the report."

Derek reached for his coffee cup. Why did the thought of the report hurt?


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N: Note to Shonda – I don't own GA, you do. And much love for the comments and bumps. This update is still setting the story. You might find the next update a little more interesting.)

_ Ch 2: On the ground _

Derek wasn't surprised their touchdown at Friedman Memorial Airport in Hailey Idaho was flawless. While the single runway approach didn't leave much room for error, he expected nothing less. His pilot was experienced and well-trained, and handled the jet smoothly. Outside his window, a row of private jets sat parked alongside the runway of this small rural airport nestled amongst the rolling foothills of the Sawtooth Mountains.

"We're really out in the middle of nowhere..."

"Yeah, it is kind of boondock-y. You ready? The car is waiting." Mark hit a button on his cell phone before slipping it into his coat pocket.

Derek followed Mark through the jet's cabin and down the few steps to the tarmac where a large late model black SUV awaited them. Late fall in south central Idaho was colorful, sunny and crisp. The jeans and sweater he exchanged his suit for before landing were comfortable. Mark remained in his legal wardrobe – suit and tie.

Derek should have used the 20-minute drive to the lodge to study the report he still held in his hand. But he trained his eyes on the passing landscape instead. Evergreens, aspens covered in fall colors, and mountains. Screw the damn report. It gave him a headache thinking about it.

"You need to open that sometime soon." Mark checked his phone for messages.

"I know," Derek muttered.

"I know you know," Mark said. "I talked to your doctors. They warned me this trip might cause a setback." He didn't add that the doctors doubted this trip would help his situation.

Derek shook his head. "It's not going to cause a setback. We'll talk and I'll return to New York." He figured determination would help his recovery process. And he was determined to see this through. The pills and therapy had ended up a waste of time. Useless. Left him feeling lost. Derek was determined to find himself by every means available to him.

Mark didn't hold much faith in this plan to walk back down memory lane. He knew this particular path held a lot of cracks before it abruptly ended. "I still think you should read the report before you...meet. You shouldn't go into this cold. It may be what you think it will be."

"I will read it," Derek promised. But the more he thought about the report, the more Derek decided to hold off from reading it. He wanted to go into the meeting without any preconceived notions. He was counting on the fresh perspective. He was counting on it to get him back to New York a whole man.

"Welcome to Sun Valley Lodge, gentlemen." The drive announced as their vehicle halted under the large portico in front of the four-storied rustic building. Derek paused as they exited the SUV. He studied the building, waiting for a hint of familiarity. Nothing. There was nothing about the facade that struck a cord within the remnants of his memory.

"Derek," Mark motioned for Derek to precede him through the main doors into the lobby as the driver brought up the rear with their luggage.

"Mr. Sloan?"

Mark turned in the direction of the voice. "Yes?"

"I'm George O'Malley, General Manager of the Sun Valley Lodge." George extended his hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you, but we weren't expecting you and..." George glanced at the distracted Derek standing a few feet away "...this early."

Mark shook his hand. "My apologies. We left New York on time, but the clear weather put us ahead of schedule."

Both Mark and George observed Derek as he circled the lobby, taking in the elegant oak-paneled décor and the casually-dressed people milling about. So engrossed in his surroundings, Derek didn't notice whispers of recognition coming from across the reception area.

Derek joined the two men in front of the elevator, and Mark introduced George. "Your lodge is impressive, Mr. O'Malley."

"Thank you," George pressed the elevator call button. "We have reserved your same suite as last time, and one across the hallway for you, Mr. Sloan."

The ride to the top floor was brief. After escorting the men to their respective rooms, George stepped out into the hallway, cell phone in hand. Pressing a button, he waited for the call to connect as he walked toward the stairwell.

"Did you find her?" George grimaced as he heard the response. "Well try her phone again. And call Cristina. If anyone knows where she is, it's her."

Mark closed the door in George's wake. "So what do you think?"

Derek shoved the report in a desk drawer, wanting it out of his sight. He crossed the suite to stand pensive, arms crossed, at a window. He was mildly surprised to find an outdoor skating rink, fully functional and in use. "For a place out in the middle of nowhere, it's not bad."

"Do you remember anything about the last time you were here?"

Derek shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

Derek motioned for Mark to join him at the window. "Don't you think I'd remember a fucking outdoor skating rink?"

"Are you confusing it with the one at Rockefeller Center?" Mark tried to keep the atmosphere light.

"Don't you have anyone to check in with?"

"Like who?"

"Your office, my doctors, the board of directors," Derek ground out. "Mom." Frustration was starting to eat away at him. "Have I forgotten anyone?"

"I texted Mom from the car. She'll call you in the morning." Mark replied, ignoring the rest of Derek's comment. "You do remember she called this trip a 'foolhardy stunt' and demanded you listen to your doctors?"

"That I do." Derek acknowledged his mother, having lost her husband a few months earlier in the same car crash that injured her only son, was uneasy about letting him out of her sight. On another level, he appreciated the break from her constant hovering his 'foolhardy stunt' brought. When Eleanor Shepard originally insisted on coming along on the trip, both Mark and Derek worked hard at insisting she stay home. He was an adult, for christssake. He could do this without his damn mother at his elbow.

"So you have no memory of being out here last July for the meeting with Allen?"

"What part of 'no' are you having trouble understanding?" Derek moved restlessly around the suite.

"So you don't remember dropping $10 million on that NASCAR racing team?"

"Am I interested in racing?" The Shepard family built its fortune on buying and selling companies of all types and sizes. A racing team wasn't a great surprise.

Mark chuckled. "Just profiting from it. You flew out here last July, stayed in this suite, met with Allen and his people, cut him a check, stayed for a couple of weeks, saw the sights, and flew back to New York." Derek had kept Mark up around with clock, on the phone during final negotiations and drafting the contract.

"Why did we meet here?" Derek turned away from Mark, walking to face the double bed. Wasn't up to his king-size standards, but it would do. Suddenly, a flash of shoulder shot through his brain. A naked shoulder. A woman's shoulder. A naked woman's shoulder in this bed.

"I believe Allen was on vacation with his family, and you insisted on closing the deal right away. You had to come to him."

Derek slowly circled the bed, trying to picture that shoulder, and everything that would have come with it, in the bed.

"Did you remember something?"

"Not sure," Derek couldn't interpret the look on Mark's face. Some anticipation with a hint of...sadness?

At the chirp, Mark checked his cell phone. The text message didn't make him happy as he moved toward the door. "Why don't you get some rest? I need to check on something."

"I'm not a damn invalid," Derek groused to the empty room. He had two choices. He could stay in the suite, driving himself nuts with impressions of that shoulder, or he could go out and do what he came here to do. Regain his memory.


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: I have to admit, I'm a little proud of this update. I love Cristina! Shonda – I may like my version of Cristina a little better than yours right now. As always – your comments and so appreciated!)

_Ch 3: Souvenir_

Ignoring his brewing headache, Derek lingered in the entrance to the Duchin Lounge, his back to the lobby. This late in the day, the bar hummed with patrons seated at intimate tables. The inlaid bar, paneled walls, brass and plant accents hinted at memories of the past. Just not his. He studied the room, hoping for a trigger. He didn't care what it was. Something. Anything.

"Am I supposed to toss a drink to you?"

The semi-surly voice drew Derek into the room. He slid onto the nearest stool at the bar.

"Aren't you too much of a rude smart ass to be serving the public?"

The curly dark-haired Asian woman behind the bar reached for a bottle and shrugged. "Do you see a look of concern on my face?" Setting a short glass on the bar, she poured a shot of amber liquid into it.

"I'm not seeing one."

"For that intelligent observation, you get one on the House." The bartender slid the shot of scotch in front of him.

Derek looked at the drink, then at the bartender before lifting the glass to his lips. "How did you know I drink single malt scotch?"

"I have magic powers?" A quick wipe with a bar towel made the ingrained wood surface shine. "You look like a single malt scotch man."

Derek smirked. The woman was a bitch. "So, you have magic powers?"

He watched as she approached a couple perched a few seats away. Her movements were quick and efficient. Precise. She filled their drink orders and didn't lose a drop. Bored, Derek's eyes wandered and landed on the bottles lined up behind the bar. Surprisingly, for a bar in the middle of nowhere, it was well stocked. And he remembered alcohol, recognizing many quality labels that would be found in many of his New York haunts. Then he saw it. Tequila. Somehow, Derek pictured long hair. Dirty blonde hair. A soft female voice echoed in his brain. Part of a conversation.

_"Jose is the only man who's never failed me."_

_"That was before you met me."_

"Cristina, I need a Dirty Martini and a Whiskey for Table 5," the server's voice brought him back to reality. Standing next to Derek, he set his tray on the bar top and tapped his fingers.

"You tap once more time, I'm breaking them off." Cristina stated. "And I'll start with your favorite one."

Setting his glass down, Derek waited until the server moved on with his drinks. "So...Cristina."

"What?"

He was sure Cristina knew him. Derek smiled, confident of his powers of persuasion. "Do your magic powers go back to last July?"

"You're wasting that McDreamy shit on me." Cristina scowled. "May work on...others, but not me."

"Hey Cristina, gimme two cups of joe." Another server ordered.

Moving to the coffee pot, Cristina took her time preparing the cups while making a call on her cell phone. Derek couldn't hear the brief conversation, but from Cristina's body language, it was tense.

"I need them this year, Yang!"

Ending the call, Cristina set the phone down and stomped over with the cups of hot coffee in hand. "I hope you realize how lucky you are not to be wearing these." The departing server's air kiss did nothing to improve her mood.

"Have I tried it on you before?"

"What?"

"My...McDreamy 'thing.'" He wasn't even sure what the hell that meant. "Do you know anyone I've tried it on in the past?"

"What is this, 20 questions?" Cristina sniped. "Are you going to ask if she's animal, vegetable or mineral."

"Could you please answer my question?" The cell phone clipped to Derek's waist vibrated but he ignored it. He knew this surly bartender had an answer for him. He was this close to reaching across the bar and strangling her.

"Do I know of any sane woman you've tried it on in the past? No, I don't. Do you want a refill? Cause you're cutting into my valuable tip time."

Cristina's eyes grew big at the hundred-dollar bill Derek set next to his empty glass. "You're still cutting into it."

Chuckling, Derek placed another large bill down. "How's that?"

She reached for the bills before Derek could blink an eye. "Yeah, I remember the 'McDreamy' thing." Cristina air quoted the word for extra emphasis.

"Do I get names?"

"I wasn't your social secretary." Cristina refilled Derek's glass.

Another hundred-dollar bill disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

"Red, Brown and Blonde. That's all I have. No names."

Blonde. "Blonde?"

Her pause was so brief Derek almost missed it.

"Yeah, both bleached and natural." Cristina grinned. "You didn't seem...picky. It really wasn't attractive."

"You don't like me." It was as obvious as the curls in her hair.

"Another intelligent observation." Cristina tossed the comment over her shoulder as she moved onto another patron.

"Not answering your phone?" Mark appeared on the barstool next to Derek. Still wearing his suit, he had loosened his blue silk tie.

"I was busy," Derek sipped his scotch. "Want one? I'm friendly with the bartender."

Mark shook his head as Cristina glanced in their direction. She stayed at the far end of the bar. "So you ready to do this?"

"To meet this mysterious person who might be able to help me?" Derek rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't read that damned report."

Draining his glass, Derek threw down a fifty as he stood up and stretched. His muscles ached from his hunched over position at the bar. His recuperating body didn't appreciate being stuck in the uncomfortable position.

Mark led the way down a side hallway, past a wall solid with images of the famous faces photographed around the Lodge and on the nearby slopes since Opening Day in 1936.

"Last year, when you flew back to New York. You brought something back with you." Mark opened a door and gestured for Derek to step inside.

It was a small windowless office. There wasn't room for much furniture or anything else. Business-like with a casual feminine edge to it. A rectangular antique glass-topped table doubled as a desk, assorted papers and files scattered across its surface as if the occupant left in a rush. A few old skiing posters hung on the walls, a pair of women's ice skates tossed into a corner. And the hint of a fragrance. Light. Floral. Again, Derek pictured the soft curve of woman's shoulder. The silky fall of dirty blonde hair.

"What? A new set of skis?" Did he even ski?

"No, me."

Both men turned to face the woman standing in the doorway. Derek could feel the oxygen slowly being forced from his body. Her long dirty blonde hair lay in a tangle about her shoulders. Her face pale...but beautiful. Green eyes...watchful. Slim dark blue jeans emphasized her slender build. A chunky off-white cable knit sweater hinted at a set of very nice breasts.

"And you are?"

"Your wife."

Mark took a deep breath. "Derek, this is Meredith Shepard."


	4. Chapter 4

_Ch 4: Papers_

"_Derek, this is Meredith Shepard."_

Mark's coolly voiced announcement hit Derek hard. This casually dressed stunning creature was his wife. She was very last thing Derek had expected when Mark suggested this meeting. Former business associates or friends. He even anticipated old girlfriends. There were plenty of those. But not a wife. Not her.

"Damn it!"

Cristina's curse forced all eyes to turn as she stood outside the doorway, behind Meredith, craning her neck to get a better look. "I told you to wait for me." Cristina whined, tugging on the back of Meredith's sweater. "I delayed him, and this is the thanks I get?"

Derek frowned at Cristina. "I thought you said..."

"I said I didn't know any 'sane' woman," Cristina motioned to Meredith. "She's not sane." Shaking her head, Meredith gently pushed Cristina back in the hallway and closed the office door in her face. Cristina's muffled grumbling could still be heard.

Meredith tersely motioned to the seats in front of her desk. "Sit down."

Meredith Shepard. Her name rolled around in Derek's brain, surprisingly in a pleasant way. He remained standing while his body slowly pivoted, tracking Meredith's progress across the short distance to her desk. His body, attuned to hers, refused to seat itself. The hand gripping his shoulder, applying steady pressure to guide him into a seated position, barely registered with Derek.

"Mark, should I call the doctor? He's not looking good." Watching Mark gently guide Derek into sitting down, Meredith reached for her office phone. The dazed look on Derek's face worried her. "I told you this was a bad idea. I thought you were going to break the news to him before our meeting!"

Mark studied Derek. He really didn't look good. "I think you should make the call."

He couldn't stop staring at her. "I don't need a doctor." He needed to...breathe. He had a wife. He, Derek Shepard, a man who could have any woman he desired - and had lived his life, from what he had been told, taking his pick - had a wife. A gorgeous, petite blonde wife. A wife, he realized, who didn't seem happy to see him. Why?

Meredith felt uncomfortable with the way Derek gazed at her. She brushed a hand over the tip of her nose before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do I have something on my face?"

Derek shook his head. Her awkward gestures made him want to smile. "No, you're...fine." Blue eyes met green. For a split second, he saw pain and fear in the jade depths before a curtain of concern came down. His hidden smile waned, and Derek ran a hand through his hair. Worry for her filled his thoughts.

Meredith observed the gesture. She knew was worried. "You're sure you don't need a doctor?"

Derek nodded. He was fine. Shocked but fine. He had anticipated feeling this way as he discovered parts of his past, and was prepared for it. "I'm fine. Really."

"Derek, I am sorry about your father. Michael was a kind man."

"Kind?" Mark didn't bother hiding his laugh. Michael Shepard had been called a lot of things over the years, and 'kind' never made the list.

"Shut up Mark," Meredith glared at Mark before giggling at the skeptical look on his face. "He was. Michael was a very kind man." Meredith had shed tears for Michael Shepard when she heard about his death. In the short time she had known him, Meredith realized she was seeing a side to him no one else had been privy to. She was going to miss him. Hell, she had missed Derek every day. Still did. A deep breath helped chase away the morose thoughts. It was time to move on.

The expression on her face as she spoke of his father left Derek with little doubt of the sincerity of her words. She mourned Michael Shepard. The mystery surrounding his wife deepened. She mourned a man whose workday never ended. A man who worked almost as hard as he did. When did they find time to form a bond?

Wordlessly, Meredith held a hand out to Mark, rotating her wrist so her palm faced upward.

Nodding, Mark reached inside his suite jacket and withdrew an envelope. He passed it over to Meredith. She studied it for a moment before pulling out the contents – a few sheets of paper. Agreeing with what she had seen, Meredith handed them back to Mark, who gave them to Derek.

"What are they?" Derek had the same reluctance to read these papers as he had the report.

"Divorce papers." Mark sighed. "Meredith has agreed to help with your...problem only if you sign the divorce papers."

Derek flipped through the pages in his hand. They were drawn up by Mark's office. Meredith's signature was already affixed to her signature line. "I'm not signing these." Derek handed the papers back to Mark. Her signature was dated seven months before the crash. He must have had a good reason for not signing them.

"Mark..." Meredith glared at Mark.

A knocked sounded twice before the door was opened. Derek and Mark turned to find a uniformed officer standing in the doorway. The emblem on his shirt pocket was that of the County Sheriff's Office. The black leather belt resting around his hips held a menacing looking gun. Derek turned toward his wife. She wasn't surprised to see him. Did Meredith fear him so much she needed the sheriff? Had he been abusive?

"Alex, what are you doing here?" Meredith groaned. This was supposed to be a simple meeting. Now her friend's husband stood in her tiny office, fire arm strapped to his side, hovering and silently threatening her soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Everything alright, TP?" The uniformed officer blocked the doorway in a way to prevent any avenue of escape, should one be needed.

Derek grew more uncomfortable by the minute. TP? "Who is he, and why is calling you 'TP?'"

Meredith waved a vague hand, as if Derek's question was of little importance. "This is Alex Karev, our county sheriff. TP is short for 'toe pick.'"

Even Mark looked confused. "Toe pick?"

"It's the ridged front edge of an ice skate," Meredith answered. "Alex, what are you doing here?"

"Izzie sent me to check on you."

"Oh god," Resting her elbows on the edge of her desk, Meredith buried her face in her hands. "I told her not to worry, that everything would be fine."

"I know. There's no harm in making sure it remains that way," Alex turned to Derek. "Right Shepard?"

Was this guy serious? "No harm at all, Sheriff." Derek drawled. Standing up, he extended his hand to the sheriff, staring him straight in the eye as he stepped toe-to-toe with the man. Their hands met in a bruising grip as each man refused to acknowledge any sign of weakness such as discomfort or pain. Knuckles turned white from the strain of the clearly painful handshake.

"Derek, sit your ass down before he arrests you for assaulting an officer." Mark instructed.

Alex smirked. "That was an assault?" Holding up his hand, the red imprint of Derek's grip could still be seen but he didn't flex or stretch his fingers.

"Enough!" Meredith couldn't take it any longer. Sitting in the same room with Derek after 10 months of no contact was starting to take its toll. Making matters worse, her body was beginning to wake up and recognize him. Being celibate all this time had been hell, especially after seeing tabloid photos of her husband out and about with females of the 'easy lay' persuasion. She had recognized the 'just fucked' look on their faces, having experienced it herself many times before the façade of their fairy tale relationship blew up in her face. The familiar curl of heat began to unfurl low in her belly and she didn't need that right now. Didn't want it. "Alex, thank you for stopping by. Tell Izzie I'll see her tomorrow. And you two," Meredith addressed Mark and Derek as Alex closed the door behind him. "When you can show me signed papers tomorrow, I'll continue this conversation."


	5. Chapter 5

(Time to reassure Shonda that I'm not trying to claim the show or its characters. And for those who are kind enough to leave comments – my eternal gratitude. 'Thank you' for making my day with each update.)

_Ch. 5 Coffee_

Meredith raised the oversized coffee mug to her mouth, pausing to inhale the aroma of freshly brewed coffee before sipping the life sustaining liquid. After her sleepless night, she needed every drop of caffeine she could drain from the mug.

"I'm sorry Meredith, but I was so worried I almost didn't drive to Boise. Alex offered to stop by. I didn't know he'd wear his uniform."

"And his gun."

"And his gun," Izzie shook her head in dismay. "He had to wear the damn gun."

Meredith watched as Izzie Karev went through the motions of making another pot of coffee. Dumping coffee beans into the grinder, filling the coffee maker with water, scooping the grounds into the basket, setting the carafe in place and flipping the switch.

"I appreciate your concern Izzie, but please don't do that again." Meredith closed her eyes, waiting for the caffeine to hit her system. The burr of the grinder masked the rumblings of the small early morning crowd trickling into Izzie's place, known to the locals as Java, a doll-house sized older home converted into a coffee and bakery spot. Coffee drinks and the best-baked goods this side of Boise. The Lodge's Pastry Chef was known to swap recipes with Izzie.

Meredith loved her morning ritual. Izzie kept a seat for Meredith at the end of the counter that wrapped around Izzie's workspace where she created her baked goods. From her perch, she quietly drank her coffee, read the morning paper and watched people move about starting their day.

"What if he refuses to sign the papers?"

Draining her mug, Meredith held it aloft for a refill. "He has no choice if he wants my help. And from what Mark has told me, Derek has too much at stake to say 'no.'"

"It must be rough, losing a parent that way," Izzie said. She paused as a thought struck her. "Imagine if Derek had been driving the car instead of his dad?"

Damn, why did Izzie have to remind her? The 'what if' scenario had burned in her brain the first few days after Michael Sheperd's death. As much as she had wanted to attend his funeral, the certainty of sitting in the back of a church and picturing Derek in the casket had been enough for a miserable Meredith to stay curled up in her bed that day. "According to Mark, Derek's uncle is pressing to have him removed as executor of his father's estate, using his amnesia as grounds to prove his unfitness to carry out his duties. He's trying to take the same approach to prevent Derek from taking over his father's companies."

"That's awful!" Izzie exclaimed. "Those companies are his birthright!"

Meredith shrugged. "Money changes people. Especially when you have a lot of it." She had seen that first hand. "And when you have a lot of it, there's the compulsion to make more of it." Her eyes had been seriously opened when she experienced Derek's need to make more money. "So for once, he needs me more than I need him."

Izzie laid a comforting hand on Meredith's arm. The hurt in Meredith's voice made her sad. As did the pain in Meredith's eyes whenever the subject of her estranged husband came up.

Izzie's sympathetic gesture touched Meredith. There was a time when any consoling caused the tears building behind her eyes to let go, but over the months Meredith had learned how not to weep at every mention of Derek.

"Again, what if he refuses to sign?"

Meredith knew she had no choice but to help Derek, regardless of his signature on the divorce papers. The look of love and pride on Michael Sheperd's face when they talked about Derek, and his intention for Derek to take over upon his retirement so he could spend time with the grandchildren he had teasingly encouraged Meredith to give him left her little choice. Her love for Derek left her little choice.

"I don't know if I can do this, Iz."

"The divorce?"

Meredith shook her head. She had to go through with the divorce. Her sanity depended on it. "Helping Derek with his memory." Her hand strayed to the delicate chain around her neck, the small charm dangling from its links. Her fingers, from habit, touched the tiny platinum ice skate boot. "I'm remembering how much I've missed him." The first couple months after she returned from New York had been pure hell, taking both Cristina and Izzie to unfurl Meredith from the fetal position she hid behind to cope with the emotional pain. Her friends never interrogated or pushed. They supported her and helped her through the worst of it.

Izzie didn't know what she could say to comfort Meredith. As much as Izzie had hinted without being out right rude and asking what happened back in New York, Meredith has never discussed, in detail, the end of her marriage. The look on Meredith's face when she picked her up at the airport was enough for Izzie to know to keep her mouth shut. Taking Meredith to her home and straight to bed, Alex had had his hands full preventing his wife from taking the first flight to New York and kicking Derek Sheperd's ass. The parade of tabloid images a month later was another nightmare.

"Alex could always give Derek an armed escort back to his jet."

"I see him, and all I remember all those photos. All those women." Meredith sniffed, wiping at a stray tear. "I'm not gone a month and he's out fucking around."

"Are you sure he was fucking around?" Izzie handed Meredith a glass of orange juice and a tissue. "You, of all people, know how photographs taken a certain way can be viewed the wrong way. You know how reporters can twist things."

"I saw the photos Iz. I recognized that damn look on their faces." Meredith looked at her friend. "He is that good."

"That's just it. They're photos. You don't know for sure he slept with them. Had he slept with all those women, he would have worn his penis down to a stub."

"I'm not checking for a stubby penis, Iz."

"Mer, I remember seeing that look on your face at least twice a day. All he had to do was kiss you, and you had it." Izzie turned to rescue a pan of scones from the oven.

"For living in a small town, you are a hard woman to find."

Meredith's breath caught as the male voice spoke in her ear. He wore the same cologne. Light and crisp, bringing memories of how the scent clung to his naked skin, and to hers. "I'm here every morning. My assistant knows my schedule." He was dressed in his usual jeans, shirt and sweater. So familiar yet so different.

Derek rested a hand on the back of her chair as he stood beside it. "Lauren is very protective of you."

"She's a good friend as well as a wonderful assistant."

Derek's gaze rested briefly on Meredith's necklace before moving to her face. "It's sad I had to learn my wife is the Director of Public Relations for the Lodge from her office."

Something flickered behind his eyes, but Meredith couldn't tell exactly what. "I thought Mark would have told you."

"He probably tried, and I ignored him." Derek thought back to the report still sitting untouched in his suite. "Still, I should know what my wife is doing."

The words 'at one time you did, and cared' were on the tip of her tongue, but Meredith bit them back. "Did you bring the signed papers?"

"We need to talk about those papers, among other things."

Meredith thought it was her imagination she was feeling Derek's thumb gently brush against the curve of her shoulder blade. A habit of his from long ago. "The papers are not up for discussion." Meredith shook her head.

"I never said I'd sign. Mark had no right to make that promise."

"He's your lawyer. Doesn't he normally negotiate on your behalf?" Meredith couldn't hide her disbelief. "Then I'll keep my memories and you can go home. Have a nice life Mr. Sheperd, what you remember of it."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ch 6: The drive_

"_I never said I'd sign. Mark had no right to make that promise."_

"_He's your lawyer. Doesn't he normally negotiate on your behalf?" Meredith couldn't hide her disbelief. "Then I'll keep my memories and you can go home. Have a nice life Mr. Sheperd, what you remember of it."_

"I'll call you later, Iz." Meredith grabbed her purse and turned to leave. She'll be damned if she let Derek dictate to her. There was one time where she acquiesced to his wishes, but that was in the past. She wasn't that wide-eyed hopelessly in love girl living her fairytale. Not anymore.

"Meredith, please." Derek grabbed her arm. "We need to talk."

The uncharacteristic use of the word 'please' caused her anger to slowly evaporate as she lifted her gaze to meet his. The blueness of his eyes always made her feel lightheaded. It was the first thing about him that hit her.

"Mer, do you want me to call Alex?" Izzie's concerned voice reached her through the haze Derek's presence created.

"You must be...Izzie?" Derek turned to smile at Meredith's friend. Meredith watched as Izzie labored to hide her shock as she faced Derek's amnesia for the first time.

"Wow, you really don't remember?"

"I don't remember a thing before my accident."

Izzie nodded, removing Meredith's empty mug and wiping the counter. "I read your...condition is called 'retrograde amnesia.'"

"Yes." Derek nodded. He loosened his grip on Meredith's arm but he didn't release it.

"But you remember everything since the accident?"

"Yes."

"So if I call you a 'Bastard' to your face, you'll remember it?"

Derek nodded, Izzie's question wiping the smile from his face.

"Good." Izzie dismissed Derek. "Mer, if you need me to send Alex, call me."

Meredith was surprised by the quiet grace with which he accepted Izzie's insult. The Derek she remembered would have responded to the slur. Now she hated feeling guilty her friends were calling Derek names, and he didn't understand why.

"Izzie..." Meredith opened her mouth to decline Izzie's offer.

"Meredith, promise me!"

"I promise." Meredith recognized a losing argument with Izzie when she was in the middle of one. Not that she'd call, but if promising calmed Izzie down so she and Derek could quietly leave, she'd promise. Another surprise was the slide of Derek's hand down her arm to clasp her hand, threading his long fingers through hers. With a gentle tug Derek pulled Meredith along as he made his way out of the coffee shop. Meredith managed a goodbye wave before the door closed behind her.

"Where are we going?" Derek asked as he stepped onto the sidewalk, keeping his hold on her hand. Meredith disliked how natural his hand felt holding hers. She watched as Derek glanced up and down the street, taking in the neighborhood. The sun highlighted a few new gray strands of hair and the section of new growth. Seeing the scar on the side of his head made her heart hurt and moisture fill her eyes. She resisted reaching out to trace its puckered curve, and pressing a healing kiss against it.

"We could go back to the Lodge." Meredith sighed. Her cooperation was now a foregone conclusion. Thoughts of Michael Sheperd pushed her in that direction, and the sight of his visible scar shoved her over to it. She'd have to talk to Mark about getting the papers signed.

"Why not your place?" Derek questioned. "Didn't we stay there?"

"No, it's my place. You sold our place."

"I did? Why?"

"You were...upset." Furious was more like it, but no point in telling him until later. She had been heartbroken when a furious Derek sold their home shortly after her return to the valley. After she made it clear she wasn't coming back to New York. If he wanted her back, he could come back to Sun Valley. Selling the house had been his reply. Mark had been very apologetic when he notified her of the sale, quoting Derek as saying 'no one tells him what to do. Not even her.'

Derek guided Meredith into a late model black SUV idling in front of the building. He gave the driver her address. An irritated Meredith settled into her seat as the vehicle moved forward. Derek's high-handed way, taking charge and making decisions, wasn't out of character for him. It had been a huge part of his personality, and apparently still is. Meredith forced her attention to her window. When Derek reached for her hand, she pulled it away.

"Are you mad at me?" Derek retrieved her hand, keeping a secure grip on it.

"It's nothing new."

"Ah, you're used to being mad at me." Derek raised her hand to his lips. He gave into the urge to touch her soft skin.

"You could say that." Meredith jerked at touch of his mouth on the back of her hand. Was the soft kiss an unspoken apology? Couldn't be. Derek never apologized. She tugged to rescue her hand from Derek's grasp, but he refused to let go.

"Why?"

The SUV coming to a stop in front of her prevented her from answering his question. With a hard tug, Meredith freed her hand and escaped from the SUV, practically running to the safety of her front door. Whatever game he was playing, she wasn't a part of it.


	7. Chapter 7

_Ch 7: Fred_

Derek watched Meredith scamper toward the sanctuary of her home, appreciating the firm curve of her faded blue jean-clad backside and the slender length of her legs. He didn't try to decipher what he felt as he watched her disappear though the front door. He was still reeling from the news of a wife. Unfortunately it appeared said wife didn't want to be in close proximity to him, or touched by him. Which was starting to pose a problem as he had discovered he liked touching her. He liked it a lot. In the coffee shop his hand reached for hers before he realized what had happened. His fingers interlocking with hers. Like a habit. Pensive, Derek exited the SUV and followed Meredith up the path.

As Derek closed the front door behind him, Meredith's voice carried from another part of the small house. "I'm in the kitchen making coffee. Oh, and watch out for..." The rest of Meredith's warning was lost as a large black furry thing hurled itself against his body, causing Derek to stagger back against the door. He couldn't help his laugh as the shepard/lab mix dog rose on its hind legs, resting front paws on his shoulders, to plant a wet slurpy kiss on his chin, it's amber eyes laughing back at him.

"...Fred." Meredith stood in the doorway, coffee canister in hand. The anxious look on her face fading as she watched man and dog. "Looks like she remembers you."

"She?" Derek ruffled the fur on Fred's back as he gently pushed the dog down. A female dog named Fred?

"She." With a nod, Meredith returned to the kitchen.

Derek looked down at the friendly dog sitting at his feet, her head up, grinning, and curly tail thumping happily against the hardwood floor. "As least someone is glad to see me," Derek muttered as he scratched behind one of Fred's ears. A twinge crawled behind his forehead as an impression of a black dog, at the end of a blue leash, appeared. He pressed his other hand to his eyes.

The sound of dry dog food pouring in to a plastic dish drew Fred into the kitchen, with Derek following closely behind. The kitchen was compact, clean, modern and still homey. Walnut cabinets, gleaming stainless steel appliances, and a large antique wooden table and chairs made him feel comfortable. Like Meredith did, Derek realized. Fred went straight to her food bowl in the corner while Meredith poured hot coffee into a pair of mugs, sitting one on the kitchen table near Derek. He absently noted it was black. She remembered how he liked his coffee. Seating himself, Derek sipped the hot brew. "You drink a lot of coffee?"

"What?" Meredith took a seat opposite him at the table, a medium-sized box at her elbow.

"Didn't we just leave a coffee shop?"

"Is there a reason you're complaining about my caffeine intake?" Meredith turned her head to the side, checking on Fred, who was face first in her food bowl merrily crunching away. So much for using her pet as a delay tactic. She was running out of them. Delaying tactics. Making coffee had been one, but the caffeine desperately needed to combat her exhaustion. She was tired and drained because of him. She resented the cause of her sleepless night sitting there, looking bright-eyed and...damn it, sexy, while Meredith felt groggy and wilted. She had spent the night tossing and turning, not closing her eyes because when she did, she saw him. Derek seemed settled in his sweater, shirt and jeans. His casual wardrobe quite the contrast to his handmade suits. While her favorite jeans had seen better days, they were her security blanket. Donning the jeans had been her lame attempt at coping with the enveloping numbness caused by Derek's arrival. Didn't matter the fabric was so worn and soft, it appeared white in places while hugging every curve. She told herself she had forgotten they were Derek's favorite pair also. Yeah, right. Every time she wore them around him, he made sure they didn't stay on for long.

"I'm only making conversation." Derek admired the delicate perfection of her profile, and the length of her hair as it lay against her shoulders. The dark blonde strands were still disheveled from her dash into the house. He pictured his fingers tucking the strands behind her ear. He also pictured his fingers moving on to trace the curve of her jaw line, gently tipping her chin up so her mouth could meet his.

"Well, the clock is ticking," Meredith shrugged. "Mark said this shouldn't take more than an afternoon."

"Mark thought my memory could come back in one afternoon with you?" The notion of her mouth meeting his triggered other thoughts. His body stirred. Mark had never led Derek to believe this meeting would be about anything other than talking, since Meredith's identity had been a mystery to him. He'd be open to negotiation.

His facial expression was devoid of any innuendo, but the darkening of his eyes to a midnight blue made Meredith shift in her seat as heat suddenly burned low in her belly as memories of how they had previously spent afternoons came to mind. Luckily her thick sweater would hide her puckered nipples. Damn, she shifted again, squeezing her thighs together against her pooling wetness. And goddamn Mark, because he would see sex as the answer to this, assuming she'd fall like a ripe piece of fruit into Derek's arms. Not this time. Double damn Mark for begging for this meeting, and she needed her head examined for agreeing. "I suppose we should start at the beginning?"

Mentally willing his erection to go away, Derek sipped his coffee before replying. His mind grasped a topic, which should douse any passionate direction his body wanted to pursue. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You don't want me near you, touching you." He stated the obvious.

"We're getting divorced. You were...upset with me because of it." She became irritated, saying the first thing that came to mind. How could she admit her fears of falling back into his arms and begging him not to let her go again? One did not admit weaknesses to Derek Sheperd. She needed to stand apart from him, so she could remain strong.

"I wouldn't mind..." Derek couldn't help the suggestive comment, letting it trail off as Meredith glared at him. "So what happened to us?"

Meredith wondered how could she sum them up to him? She knew she couldn't and had to start at the beginning. But the microwave clock told her they were running out of time. She was sacrificing only this day for Derek. Meredith reminded herself that memory or no memory, he could board his jet and fly to the Twilight Zone for all she cared. But the thought of Derek leaving, let alone leaving as less then 100 Derek, didn't sit well with her. Part of her wanted to leave him wounded and struggling. As he had her. But she couldn't do that to him. She doubted he'd feel wounded, but this different Derek unsettled her. Scared her. It had taken an incredible amount of effort to put herself back together. Meredith wasn't going to let him undo it as he returned to his life in New York, leaving her in shattered pieces in his wake. She wasn't giving him the chance.

Derek viewed with interest the emotions flitting across Meredith's face as she considered his question. Her face free of makeup, clear soft-looking pale skin, pale, he guessed from interrupted sleep the night before if the faint dark shadows under her green eyes were any suggestion. Though his past life was a yawning chasm he needed to fill, the mystery of Meredith was becoming more important to him than anything he could imagine. She had left him also unable to sleep. What had happened to them? Why were they on opposite ends of the country? How did the silky strands of her long hair feel like against his skin? What would those lips feel like as his tongue pushed past them? How tightly would her legs wrap around his waist as he filled her, repeatedly? Why did he refuse to sign the papers long ago? Derek not only needed his memory, he needed many, many answers. Somewhere in darkness of his past, a voice pointed out to him that he needed her.

Meredith needed another delaying tactic. She needed to open her mouth and get it over with, but she feared the pain. "Why is your uncle doing this?"

His Uncle Bill? Derek had seen the report Mark had prepared on William Sheperd. In presenting the report, Mark had explained to Derek that such reports had been a daily occurrence in their business relationship. Rarely Derek had gone into a meeting or faced a new business prospect without being forewarned of his opponent's background and weaknesses. Mark quoted Michael Sheperd as referring to these investigative reports as "searching for the soft underbelly." Apparently his father's younger brother had always envied the success and, as his mother called it, the notoriety, of their branch of the family. Not content with only a seat on the board of directors of Sheperd International, his uncle saw his brother's death as an opportunity to take it all. Somehow, he didn't view his uncle as a real threat to his position within the company. Mark wasn't overly worried either, but had pushed for this meeting as a safeguard. "According to Mark, he always wanted to be my dad, and now's his chance."

"You don't sound worried about him."

"The amnesia helps," Derek chuckled. "I don't know if I should be or not." Derek had an inkling if the positions had been reversed, and it was Michael Sheperd looking to dethrone him, he would be concerned. The soft expulsion of air drew his attention to Fred as she curled up on the floor beside his chair. She had padded quietly to his side.

The softening of Derek's face as he patted Fred's rump pulled at the middle of her chest. The gesture was a brief glimpse of the Derek she had met. She had to put him behind her. "Mark told me Bill was causing serious problems for you." In between Mark's updates of Derek's post-crash progress, he informed Meredith of Bill's maneuverings and pressed her to see Derek. It had taken a few weeks of his phone calls before Meredith allowed herself to consider the possibility of seeing Derek again.

"Why does Karev call you 'TP?'" The thought of any man having a closer connection with Meredith than he came out of nowhere, and it troubled Derek. Both the thought and the reaction within him it caused.

His abrupt change of topic brought a frown to her face. "I can skate and he can't. He thinks he's being funny, so I humor him. Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious about my wife."

"You won't have to worry about 'your wife' much longer."

He had hoped she had forgotten about the papers. "Why are you pushing for the divorce?"

"Isn't that putting the cart before the horse?" Meredith asked. "Don't you want to know how we got to this point?" She ran a finger along the edge of the box they had ignored until now.

"You're the one jumping to the destination before I know about the journey." Derek felt a funny flicker of emotion. Did he really need to know the journey? Only if you want to know your mistakes and fix them, the same voice whispered in his head. He had to ask himself, did he?

"Tough. We're doing this my way. And we need to do it today." Ripping off the Band-Aid, rehashing the past – a life she's accepted was gone. The sooner they did this, the sooner she could heal. Compacted into the one day she gave Mark under pressure. Derek was making her feel too much, forcing her to remember everything. But she had to – for him.


	8. Chapter 8

(It's probably not a good sign if I need to explain that this flashback is from the perspective of a 3rd party. But, I'm going with it anyway. :D )

_Ch 8: Ice_

"You're not my...usual." Derek felt he had to state the obvious. The first sight of his...wife confused the hell out of him. He had seen the tabloid-documented evidence of his social life. The typical type of woman he had been photographed with was tall, sleek, sophisticated and expensive. Women who wrapped themselves up from head to toe in designer labels and the men who supplied them. Women who knew the score, and didn't simper or cry when he moved on. Which he always did, according to Mark.

"So I've heard." Meredith frowned at the canine traitor snoring quietly on the floor next to Derek's chair. The toe of Derek's expensive Italian shoe absent-mindedly massaging Fred's back. Like a habit.

Meredith's fresh, natural beauty was in stark contrast to the images Derek studied during restless weeks laying on his back convalescing. In hopes of helping his memory cells recover, he had read hundreds of newspaper clippings documenting his business and personal lives. The scores of women clinging to his arm over the years left Derek indifferent. The woman sitting across the table from him didn't.

"So why..." He didn't know how to phrase the question without making Meredith feel uncomfortable.

"So why did you pursue me?" A sleek dark blonde eyebrow elevated. "You're sure I didn't chase you?"

Derek mentally compared the parade of photos to Meredith. He knew she wasn't one of them. "I am."

Meredith opened the box. Derek couldn't see much of the contents, but it appeared full of assorted items – photos, papers, etc. "We met at the Lodge, out by the ice skating rink."

"Do I know how to skate?"

"No," Meredith smiled. Her lips had a sad twist to them. "But you kept asking me for lessons. The redhead you were with didn't appreciate your...persistence since you were with her."

Cristina's remark about redheads and brunettes came back to Derek. "I was with a red head while I asked you for skating lessons?"

Meredith nodded.

"Did you ever get around to giving me lessons?"

"No. I didn't want to interrupt your social schedule." Meredith replied, with a slight emphasis on the word 'social.' "Besides, I think the red head wanted to break my kneecaps.

_JULY – LAST YEAR_

"...and Steve said he loved how the dress looked on me." Addison Montgomery looked up from her martini to catch Derek's profile. Something on the outdoor skating rink had dragged his attention away from her. Their table on the outer edge of the Lodge's patio sat in full sun, bathing the red head and her companion in bright afternoon sunlight. Blocking the sun's glare with her manicured hand, she looked to see what had captured his attention. Clearly her silky tank top showing off her generous cleavage wasn't doing its job. All she could see were a couple dozen people of varying levels of expertise skimming the surface of the ice.

"Derek?" She flipped a lock of shiny red hair off her bare shoulder.

"What?" Derek shifted in his seat, facing the rink in a more comfortable position.

"Did you hear what I said about Steve?" Addison hoped the mention of another man's name would make Derek realize he could lose her. The past two days in his bed had been mind blowing – the man did know his way around a woman's body. God, her clit tingled in remembrance of their morning fuck fest. She wanted another night before she returned to Los Angeles, and a little jealous nudge never hurt a man. Might encourage Derek to buy a particular diamond necklace waiting for her in a little jewelry shop in downtown Ketchum.

"He liked your dress." Derek shrugged. "I heard."

The peel of feminine laughter floated across their table. More like a giggle. Addison supposed a man could call it infectious. She called it irritating. Grating. And it came from the damn ice rink. Glad he couldn't see the heavy frown on her face, Addison reached across to run a determined finger across the back of Derek's hand, suggestively stroking the length of his fingers. Anything to make him concentrate on her. She wasn't used to men not paying complete and total attention to her Then there was the damn giggle again. Derek settled back in his seat and smiled.

The skater, a woman in her late 20s, long dark blonde hair, long legs. Everything about her was long, but her khaki shorts. Addison could tell from a distance her clothing lacked designer labels. She struggled to keep her male companion upright as they slowly circled the rink one more time, her nauseating giggle escalating as he wobbled on his blades. Addison also noticed Derek's gaze narrowed infinitesimally as the man slipped an arm around her trim waist to regain his balance. Addison glared at the couple as they left the rink, exchanged their skates for regular footwear, and walked toward the patio. Why did they have to pass by their table? Right by it! She was close to sticking a foot out to trip the bitch.

"I'm impressed Alex, your ankles are still in one piece." The giggled comment grated on Addison's ears, but the man's athletic form was very easy on her eyes. He looked like solid "Plan B" material, until his wedding ring came into view. The pair paused inches away from them, stopping to talk with the couple at the next table. Derek remained silent and watchful. He also spotted the wedding ring, and looked for its mate on the blonde's rapidly gesturing hands. Addison could actually feel her spot in Derek Sheperd's bed growing smaller and smaller by the minute.

It had to be the hair, Derek thought. The lengthy, sexy tangle of dirty blonde hair hanging down her back. He pictured it trailing across the pillows of his bed. Flexing his fingers, the strands would wrap around his hand, and he'd pull her head back, giving him access to the soft line of her neck moments before his tongue licked a wet line to her glorious breasts. His erection went from uncomfortable to painful. Or it could be her legs. Her shorts showcased trim thighs and firm calves, and soft pink nails topping sexy toes in open-toed sandals. He'd have those legs wrapped around his waist before he returned to New York in a few days. And then he heard it. She giggled at something the jerk said. He'd never heard a woman's laugh quite like that before. It enfolded him in its melodic silkiness. Something shifted.

Meredith felt uneasy. She was being watched. Closely. But by whom? While Alex chatted with his deputy and his wife, Meredith tried to subtly turn her head and locate the source of this creepy feeling.

"Hello."

She had to tilt her head down to find the source of the greeting, seated next to her. An astonishing pair of blue eyes set in a handsome male face collided with hers, halting the movement of her lungs. They were a shade of blue that had to be artificially enhanced, but Meredith was so close she couldn't detect any contact lenses. Her searching glance took in the thick dark curls controlled by the cut of a costly cut and style, and the impressive male body underneath the white button-down shirt and grey slacks. "Hi."

Smiling, Derek leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees. The action pulling the material snugly across his muscular thighs. "Do you give skating lessons?"

"You don't look like you need lessons." Of any kind, Meredith thought.

"But I do," his grin widened. "Desperately."

Meredith gestured to the silently fuming redhead sitting as his table, in awe of the woman's restraint in not throwing her empty glass at her date. Or her. "I think you're covered." With an awkward smile, Meredith turned back to Alex and his deputy.

Derek's grin transformed into something sleek, almost untamed. How he loved a challenge.

_(end of flashback)_


	9. Chapter 9

_The flashback continues..._

_Ch 9: José_

Cristina was tempted.

So very tempted. It was late, and she was bored. Serving the same old drinks to the same old drunks in the Duchin Lounge.

The Wood River Valley, home to the Sun Valley Lodge and a few nearby communities, was about 6,000 feet above sea level. She didn't think she could be farther removed from civilization than this place. She worked hard during the non-skiing months, working double shifts and saving her tip money, so she could spend her time barreling down the face of Baldy at the hardcore breakneck speeds that kept her blood pumping. The area wasn't known for its nightlife in the off-season. So entertainment, when she could find it, was scarce. And she knew this moment threatening to explode in Meredith's face, would be golden. But could she do that to her friend? Her person?

Poor Meredith. She was relaxed, and comfortable, in her jeans, long sleeve t-shirt and heels. It was the end of a long workday, and Cristina knew Meredith looked forward to a little time with José before heading home. She set the empty shot glass on the bar.

Oh, why the hell not.

"So Evil Spawn survived his skating lesson?" Cristina tried not to openly stare at the guy sitting alone at a table in a far corner of the lounge as she willed him to look their way. McDreamy, as Cristina decided to name him, since he looked too good to be true. She was surprised he only had his cell phone for company. He never lacked female company. A few days ago a statuesque brunette clung to his arm, and other parts of his anatomy. Must be the hair, Cristina mused. It looked high maintenance. Just like him and the other spoiled rich guys she's seen come and go. It was interesting how being face down in a puddle of puke was usually a great equalizer. But this guy didn't get drunk. And as of earlier this afternoon, he'd been ignoring the female barracudas, concentrating on finding out all he could about the Lodge's "skating instructor." Cristina touched the few large bills tucked in her back pocket, courtesy of McDreamy. He had asked 'do you know the name of the skating instructor?' She sure did. His name is Ron.

"Barely," Meredith giggled. "He fell and almost gouged his leg with his own skate." Pushing the empty glass with a long finger, it slid across the bar top to rest against Cristina's hand.

"He almost stabbed himself with his skate? Hell, I'm still waiting for Alex to shoot himself in the foot!" Cristina filled the glass and handed it back to Meredith.

When Meredith giggled, Cristina waited for his reaction. And she wasn't disappointed. Cristina almost rubbed her hands together in glee. His head flipped around as he searched the lounge for the source as he abruptly ended his call. It had to be the low lighting, but Cristina could have sworn his eyes glowed when they lit onto Meredith sitting at the bar. McDreamy shot to his feet, and made his way toward her.

"I don't know why you don't give up on Deputy Fife. He has two left feet." Keeping her face non-reactive, Cristina stepped back to take in the show about to take place.

A pair of male arms trapped Meredith at the bar. They slid around her to lock onto the edge of the bar, bringing his body up against Meredith's back, his nose buried in the loose locks of her hair. She jumped, half her tequila splashing over the glass rim and onto her hand. She turned, Cristina guessed, to yell at the ballsy jerk invading her personal space. But the words were never spoken as Meredith realized whose chest was pressed snugly against her shoulder blades. Cristina wanted to reach across and smack the side of Meredith's head, and bring her out of the frozen state she fell into. She may have to do something, seeing how McDreamy's eyes were trained on Meredith's mouth as if it were a tasty snack.

"Well if it isn't Sherlock Holmes."

"You smell like...some kind of flower." Ignoring Cristina, Derek briefly closed his eyes and inhaled, filling his lungs with the tantalizing scent.

"It's lavender. From my conditioner." Meredith's reply was low and breathy. Astonished, Cristina stared as Meredith briefly rested against McDreamy as he breathed her in. What the hell was going on? Who was this simpering female almost batting her eyelashes at this guy's line of bull? Her person would have sharply delivered her elbow to his midsection and told him to get lost. She and Meredith snickered over his type all the time, watching the slick, rich playboys toy with the money chasing playgirls. It was one of their favorite off-duty pastimes. And now Meredith looked like she wouldn't mind becoming this boy's toy.

"You're awfully fresh for someone I don't know." Suddenly, Meredith pulled herself away from his chest and reached for her tequila. Cristina internally cheered for the return of her person from whatever insane moment she had.

McDreamy took the stool next to Meredith. He was amused by her response. From what Cristina had seen over the past few days, he wasn't used to getting the cold shoulder. Only hot tail.

"Isn't tequila a little harsh for you?" He reached for Meredith's glass and downed the shot without flinching.

"José is the only man who's never failed me." Meredith motioned for Cristina to pour another shot for her.

"That was before you met me."

Cristina couldn't remember the last time she laughed so hard. "Seriously, you think that line will work for you?"

"I really think he does!" Meredith chortled, grinning at Cristina.

"Maybe." Derek nodded. He reached for Meredith's chin, his touch gentle, and guided her face in his direction. "Did it?"

Meredith raised an eyebrow at his smile. "Doubt it."

Cristina nodded as she moved to fill a drink order. Hearing those words, she knew her Meredith was back.

_(end flashback)_


	10. Chapter 10

(I am sorry this took so long. 3D got in the way, and I struggled with this update. Somehow, it finally came together. I think you will like it. The flashback continues. This time, from Meredith's POV. But Derek's thoughts kept creeping in. And I liked what he was thinking too much to take them out. So Meredith isn't a mind reader, in case you were wondering.)

_Ch 10: Moonlight_

_(Begin flashback)_

She loved nights like these.

The clear late night sky filled with glittering diamonds tossed onto rich black velvet for as far as the eye can see. No pollution or skyscrapers to block the view. It made the two-hour drive to civilization worth the drive. And the best way to enjoy it was flat on her back.

The patio chaise lounger creaked under Meredith's weight as she raised her head, trying to keep an eye on her dog, which was difficult given Fred's black fur. Fred was busy doing her usual tour along the backyard fence before finding a discrete area behind a young aspen tree. She insisted checking under each and every bush and tree in the compact yard. Meredith appreciated Fred's persistence. Which reminded her of another persistent dog.

Just thinking of him trapping her against the bar, his arms wrapped around her brought other thoughts to mind, other positions. She groaned, falling flat on her back, trying to ignore the pebbled nipples jutting against the soft cotton of her bra. The damned man made her nipples tight, and caused other parts to...grow warm.

The same man, whose name she now knew thanks to Cristina, refused to take 'no' for an answer. Derek Sheperd. Meredith was grateful Derek's second scotch distracted him enough for her to sneak away. She didn't exhale until her Jeep traveled a few miles away from the Lodge. When headlights failed appeared in her rearview mirror, Meredith headed home to Fred and bed. Tired and lost in her thoughts, Meredith failed to notice Fred's attention shifting to the side gate leading toward the front of the house. The purr of a car engine, and the crunch of tires on gravel forced a growl from Fred as she moved into guard dog mode. Only after a car door slammed shut did Fred begin to bark as if Meredith's life depended on it. The adult sheperd-mix dog placed herself between Meredith and the gate, ready to pounce.

"Fred!" The barking startled Meredith, pushing her prone figure upright. She watched Fred launch herself, resting her paws on the top rail of the gate as the tall shadowy figure halted at the gate. She could hear the low murmur of a male voice making soothing noises. The figure was backlit by lights coming from the front of the house. He was tall, and the silhouette a little familiar. Meredith released the breath she wasn't aware of holding.

"Derek?"

"So you do know my name." His chuckle deepened as Fred's fierce barks turned to happy whines. "So who's this?" Derek gently pried Fred's paws from the gate and guiding her back down to the ground before opening the gate.

"Fred used to be my guard dog," Meredith replied as Fred, with tail in full wag, welcomed Derek in to her sanctuary. Her home.

"How did you find me?"

"I have people who know people."

The ease with which he made it past her dog, well known for not taking kindly to strangers, made Meredith a little nervous. His smooth-talking womanizer persona had been easy to spot, and she knew he was used to getting his way. Well, he wasn't getting her. The last thing Meredith wanted in her life was his kind. Once bitten, twice shy. The three months she had spent with Finn were like a nasty aftertaste, lingering for the past two years. The damn vet had been plying his trade with most of the female owners of his patients. She hadn't known he was such a bitch magnet. Experiencing one womanizer in a lifetime was more than enough for her. But, Meredith smiled, she didn't recall Fred warming up to Finn this fast. Fred never warmed up to Finn at all.

"What are you smiling about?"

Meredith looked up into his face, inches away from her own. She bit back a sigh at the blueness of his eyes. When did he sneak up to her? The moonlight touched the side of his face with pale light. She watched his eyes darken as they lingered on her lips. The look pulled air from her lungs. "Fred." A glance downward confirmed Fred heeling at Derek's feet. When did she learn to heel?

"I'm jealous of Fred."

"Why?"

"You don't know how much I want to be the one putting that smile on your lips." His hand slowly came up, a finger tracing the full curve of her bottom lip. The negative shake of her head was minimal, as if against her will. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight.

"Besides, you owe me."

"I owe you?" Her giggle wrapped itself around his heart and held on for dear life, shocking the hell out of him. "What could I possibly owe you, and why?"

"This, for driving me stark raving mad all day." Hauling her into his arms, Derek lowered his mouth to hers, nipping at her hesitant lips til they opened to him. Her scent slid around him, embedding itself further in his memory. He realized a compulsive need to mark her as his, and kill anyone who dared to look in her direction. He didn't know where that thought came from, but it was there.

It took a moment for Meredith to realize her hands had traveled up his arms, over his shoulders to cup his strong jawline while his wicked tongue played with hers. What the hell was she doing? The hard ridge of his erection ground against her, his hands crushing the curves of her backside. Her brain demanded she push him away, but other parts of her body successfully argued against that action.

Meredith felt the seductive strokes of his tongue all the way down to her throbbing thighs. When the wetness began to pool there, her breath attempted to escape in shallow gasps. Panic set in. This had to end. Now! Struggling to draw in oxygen, Meredith's hands wrapped around his upper arms. Trying not to dwell on their muscular firmness, she pushed against them. When his grip tightened, she increased the pressure. Finally, Meredith felt the tension in his arms slacken some as his hands moved to her hips. She leaned back a bit, her lips reluctantly leaving his, and watched as Derek struggled to retain his self-control.

_(End flashback)_

Truthfully dreading reliving their past, Meredith reached into the box. She rooted around til she found it. A familiar sense of sadness touched her as her fingers wrapped around the metal and glass object. Meredith hadn't seen the small silver picture frame since her return from New York. It had been the first item to land in the box when she relegated everything related to her husband to the back of her closet. She held it out to Derek.

Derek accepted the frame and studied the color photo. He recognized the interior cabin of his jet. Derek sat in one of the leather seats with a radiant Meredith cradled in his lap. They had eyes only for each other. The wide goofy grin on his face startled him. Had he really been that happy? "When was this taken?"

"On our way to Paris for our honeymoon."


	11. Chapter 11

(I'm sorry it's taken so long for this update. I hope this is worth the wait. Thanks again for the comments! And for the record, I do not own GA, but am damn glad to see the return of Dr. Meredith Grey from S1. I think she earn the Tumor Cheer.)

_Ch 11: We had Paris_

_Begin flashback_

The early morning sounds of the Champs d'Elysee filtered through the heavy damask curtains into the darkened bedroom of their 5th floor cocoon. A large apartment in an elegant, turn-of-the-century building, with room after room tastefully furnished with chic Parisian antiques. None of which mattered to Meredith. Only the past two weeks of feasting on each other, and venturing out into the world for sustenance and occasional sightseeing did.

"No." Meredith protested, burrowing deeper under the blanket. The thread count of the cotton sheets so high the fabric whispered like silk against her bare skin. Exhaustion pulled at her eyelids. She didn't get much sleep last night, but Meredith didn't complain as she stretched like a lazy feline. Her body tingled and deliciously ached in all the right places as she arched against a hard naked wall of warm muscular male pressed tightly against her back. His arm tightened around her waist in protest of the small pocket of space materializing between them. His hand slid down to gently cup her abdomen as he pressed his morning erection against her backside. She grinned sleepily as she wiggled her bottom against him, and held her breath as he grew harder. His low chuckle vibrated against her back and curled her toes.

"Yes." Derek rubbed his cheek against the soft tangle of long dark blonde hair trapped on his pillow. Nudging aside a few locks of her hair, the tip of his tongue traced a wet path up along the back of Meredith's neck, indulging in a few more strokes in response to the tremor moving through her body. "We have to."

"But I don't wanna." Her whine morphed into a low drawn out moan as Derek's tongue continued its tease of the soft skin of her nape. "Why can't we stay here?" Meredith rolled over, the crush of her breasts against the coarse hair scattered across his chest, along with the insistent nudge of his erect penis against her thighs, made conversation a bit difficult. Her 'please' was barely recognizable.

"I have to go back." Derek's hand slid slowly along her thigh to grasp and drape it over his hip. His tip rubbed against her wet slit, the contact robbing her body of oxygen.

"You could work from here." Meredith slid her arms around his neck. "Haven't you heard of teleconferencing?" Her leg tightened its grip on his body. She had to get closer to him. The sizzling sensation of his touch made Meredith want to do nothing more than to grind herself into him. On to him. Moving and lifting her hips slightly, the touch of his blunt tip to her clit sent sparks of electricity firing through her body. But then, any touch of him had the same effect.

"I have to get back to New York." Derek kissed the tip of her nose, reaching down to guide himself into her. "I wish we could stay here, but I can't." Sighing as he partially slid in, Derek's lips trailed across her cheek to her ear. "I promise we'll come back." His mouth moved to take her lower lip between his teeth and gently pulled, his tongue stroking the inner skin before sweeping inside her mouth. Welcoming his tongue, Meredith continued to rock her pelvis, eagerly encouraging the slide of his cock into her wet warmth. His groan was lost in the cavern of her mouth. "As often as you want."

Derek's power of persuasion was...masterful. His hand caressed the small of her back as he bent to lick one of her hard nipples. As his tongue circled around the tender areole, tendrils of sensation snaked through her limbs and down to her clit before burning up the few remaining operational brain cells. "Oh alright." The concession was lost in her sigh as he rolled her beneath him and slid fully in.

_End flashback_

Her skin felt flushed, and her panties wet, as Meredith accepted the photograph back from Derek. Why can't her body let go of him once and for all? She'd welcome the release. The damn man only had to sit across the table and her whole body tingled.

"How did we end up in Vegas?"

"You have strong powers of persuasion," Meredith replied, her cheeks blushing a becoming shade of pink. "You insisted on giving me the grand tour of your plane, and before I knew it you had me strapped into a seat and us flown there."

Derek watched her pink cheeks deepen in color. What ever she was remembering, he wished he could too. "Were we drunk?" He doubted that was the case, but asked the question anyway. Not a person of excesses, he instinctively knew he could hold his liquor. But he didn't know if she could.

She shook her head. "I wish that had been my excuse." Blaming their spur-of-the-moment wedding ceremony on an alcoholic haze would have made things simpler, but they both had been stone sober. And mad for each other. He had stayed in town simply to chase her. After a week of his intense pursuit, Meredith's protective wall had disintegrated. After a week she had fallen fast and hard. After a week of running, she had fallen straight into his arms, and into his bed. She still blushed whenever she crossed paths with the waitperson who delivered their breakfast the next morning. The bed had been in plain view of the door as Derek, wearing only a bed sheet tucked around his waist, signed for their food.

"Was this taken in Vegas?"

Lost in her memories, Meredith never noticed Derek taking control of her memory box. It now sat in front of him, and he held up another photo. "Yes." At one time she had been convinced the captured moment of herself nestled tightly against Derek, swaying to a slow Frank Sinatra number, her head resting on his shoulder as he whispered "marry me" in her ear, had ceased to bring pain. She was wrong. With echoes of Frank singing "Embraceable You" ringing in her head, Meredith didn't know how her hand remained steady as she reached for the photo.

_Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you  
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you  
Just one look at you  
My heart grew tipsy in me  
You and you alone_

_Bring out the Gypsy in me  
I love all the many charms about you  
Above all, I want these arms about you  
Don't be a naughty baby  
Come to papa, come to papa do  
My sweet embraceable you  
I love all the many charms about you  
Above all, I want my arms about you  
So don't you be, a naughty baby  
Come to papa do  
My sweet embraceable you_

Derek had paid to keep entrance to the small club exclusive. They had been the only couple on the postage-stamp sized dance floor as the house band played one romantic ballad after another. Not much foot movement was involved. Just their bodies perfectly aligned and Meredith feeling safe and loved in his arms. At that moment, 'yes' had been the only answer. The perfect answer.

The hard scrape of her chair as she pushed back from the table startled Fred from her nap. Looking up to Derek for reassurance, Fred settled back into her position on the floor next to his chair. Tossing the photo onto the table, Meredith carried her mug back to the coffee pot for a refill. Caffeine wasn't the answer but she had to get away from that photo. "Anything ringing a bell yet?"

They were about half way through the day and nothing. Frustrated, Derek noted the stiff lines of Meredith's back as she refilled her mug. "Nothing yet." Other than a flash of a dog leash, he was beginning doubt any of his life would come back. A heaviness settled low in his gut as he realized the possibility of Meredith lost to him forever. How could he lose something he didn't remember having? And he wanted to remember. He needed to know why she left him. Who had he been to chase her away?

"I think Mark's idea is a waste of time," Meredith spoke over her shoulder. "I don't know why he thought this would work."

"It will." Derek was determined to make this work. Screw his uncle, and screw those damn divorce papers.

This was a stupid idea. She was going to kill Mark for pushing her into it. "No, it won't." Turning around, Meredith felt more comfortable away from the table so she rested against the counter while sipping her coffee. "You should go back to New York and your doctors. So why don't you do the right thing and sign the papers before you leave for the airport?"

"I'm not going back to New York."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not." Picking up his mug, Derek sipped the cold remains of his coffee.

"That's right," Meredith rolled her eyes. "No one tells Derek Sheperd what to do."

"That's true."

"So you remember that much, at least."

He ignored her comment. "I'm not going back to New York because I'm staying here."

"Where?"

Derek reached down to scratch behind Fred's ear. "Here. With you and Fred."


	12. Chapter 12

(Standard disclaimer – I don't own GA. Shonda does. My thanks to everyone reading. And to those reviewing. I greatly appreciate your comments.)

_Ch 12. Get out_

His attention kept drifting back to her hands. Fast moving. Fingers long and elegant. She kept the nails short and neat, and when the mood struck her, coated with a polish light in color. His recall of her simple manicure came and went unnoticed as Derek stood in the living room window fixated on Meredith, her hands vehemently pressing her point of view, went toe-to-toe with Mark in the driveway. Pinned under Meredith's heavy fire, Mark planted himself next to the open driver's side door of his rented SUV. Arms crossed over his chest, Mark's defensive stance and frowning expression didn't appear to be giving in to Meredith any time soon.

Fred's wet nose distracted Derek. Chuckling quietly, he gently scratched behind her ear. "I know you're happy I'm staying. You need to help me work on her." A car door slamming brought Derek's attention back to the window. Angry Meredith stormed across the small yard to the front door. Scratch that. 'Angry' couldn't accurately describe her state of being. She was petite and fierce in her rage. She sparked with it. Mark followed in her wake, not looking forward to Round Two. Derek couldn't help the upward lift of his lips.

"Don't give me that head injury bullshit again, Mark. You're a freaking broken record I don't want to hear anymore. I don't care! I really don't care! Get those papers signed and go!" Meredith let the door swing shut in Mark's face. Mid-tirade, Meredith paused in the living room doorway, struggling to catch her breath as she faced her close-to-being-ex-husband. His enjoyment of her anger made Meredith her want to strangle him. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Smiling! You're enjoying this and it's pissing me off."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"No. I'm not."

"Then wipe that damn smirk off your face! You can remember. Everything. You can, you just don't want to. And you know what? I don't blame you. If I had your history, I'd want to forget it too."

"Meredith, calm down. We can work this out." Mark ignored Meredith's resistance as he guided her into the room and to the couch. Sensing her distress, Fred moved to Meredith's side, leaping onto the couch and draping 80 pounds of fur and muscle across Meredith's lap. Meredith wrapped her arms around Fred's neck in a fierce hug. Shifting into protection mode Fred growled at the two men, forcing Mark to shift away from the couch.

"Meredith." The ache started small. He massaged the scar line. "This is the only way that makes sense. Forget the flashcards. Recreating 'us' will pull everything out into the light."

"Meredith, please, we need you to do this," Mark sighed. "Please. Give us a week or two. I know this is difficult for you."

"'Difficult' is a poor word choice Mark." Meredith kept her hold on Fred, who lay there, daring Mark or Derek to make a move toward the couch. "Try 'impossible.' Try 'out of the question.' Try 'hell no!' And you." she turned to Derek. "I have no desire to revisit the scene of the crime. I've paid my fine. I've done my time."

Damning the increasing ache behind his eyes, Derek glanced at Mark as he risked a step closer to Meredith, the couch and Fred's low growl. "Was I that much of a bastard to you?" He found it impossible to picture anyone treating Meredith in that way.

Instead of answering his question, Meredith looked to Mark. The tilt of her head, her expression, her anger, handed the duty off onto Mark. Shaking his head, Mark deflected her silent demand. The silent tug-of-war confused Derek, and he couldn't keep the demanding tone from his voice. "Mark?"

"Ah, there's the Derek we all know and bow to." Meredith chided. "See? All cured."

Fred nosed Meredith's cheek. She knew what Meredith needed at that moment, and Meredith cherished Fred's infallible intuition and unconditional love. Meredith glared at Mark as he prepared to open his mouth. Their friendship, which developed during the initial radiance of her marriage and the devastating, destructive end of it, never stopped her from forgetting Mark's role as Derek's attorney and mouthpiece. She knew he would never use it against her. And he never did. But it could come in handy. Like now. She couldn't give voice, in detail, to how Derek's personality, his behavior, radically altered after his return to New York. It would hurt.

"You could have been...nicer to Meredith."

"God Mark, I thought attorneys were supposed to be masters of oratory." Meredith gasped. She really wanted to laugh at his choice of words. Derek could have been...? "Nicer? Try acting like a human being. Acting like a husband." She didn't bother tacking on the words 'who loved his wife.' The pointless words didn't matter any more. Groaning, Meredith buried her face against Fred's neck. Agreeing to help Derek with his memory had to be the second most stupid thing she's ever done. Falling for him in the first place will always be at the top of that list.

"Did I cheat on you?"

His warm breath caressed the curve of her ear. Meredith shivered. Oh why didn't she train Fred as an attack dog? If she had, Derek would never have gotten close enough to whisper in her ear. Did he cheat? She had no clue. If anyone had asked her during the early days, Meredith would have laughed at the suggestion as impossible. Even during the limping last days of their union, sex was the glue keeping the pieces together. Those flames burned hot, and often enough for Meredith to doubt a third party existed. "If you did, I never knew about it."

"But you thought I was capable of it?" The notion of turning to other women confounded Derek. Looking at the silky fall of Meredith's hair, the curve of her jaw, he knew – without a doubt – that he never strayed. The thought of touching any other female hit him as repulsive. His hand lifted. He could picture the strands sliding through his fingers. He could feel them against his skin. Her attention shifted to his hand and then his face. Derek froze.

"Derek, I think we should go." The ringing left earlier by Meredith's fierce argument finally cleared his ears. Mark felt solely responsible for the miserable looking female clutching the large black dog like a shield. He had been certain a face-to-face meeting would help them, but he never pictured this. Not one for guilt, somehow she brought it out in him. "Meredith, I'm sorry."

"I want you to get the hell out of my home."

"Meredith." Straightening, Derek dropped his hand as Mark grabbed the back of his sweater, pulling him away from the couch. "Talk to me!" Seeing Meredith huddled behind Fred twisted his insides. Resentment dissolved desire, and his anger level threatened to rocket through the roof. Frustrated at what he couldn't remember. Worried about what he didn't know. Pissed at the increasing headache, he thrust a hand through his hair, pushing strands off his forehead. The damn throbbing muddled his brain.

Damn Derek and his habits. He did the hand thing again. Tough. She was frustrated too. Screw his uncle. Why didn't he go back to New York? "Don't make me call Alex. Get out. Both of you! Now!" Fred leaped to her feet, the couch giving her the added height to be near face level with Derek. Her warning growl gave way to a warning bark.

Recognizing Fred was ready, willing and able to leap at them to protect Meredith, Mark captured Derek by the arm and forced him toward the front door.

"I want those papers signed. Today." Meredith hesitated. Not wanting to say the next sentence, she didn't know what else to do. This stupid plan of Mark's had to end. Now. She was fed up and needed her life back. Her Derek-free life. "Or I'm calling your uncle."

Her words stopped both men at the door. "Meredith, I know we can work something out." Mark pushed Derek behind him. "I'll call you..."

"Go ahead," Derek cut Mark off. "Call him." Before Derek could stop himself, he pushed Mark aside and walked back to Meredith. Anger controlled his movements. Ignoring Fred's growl, Derek gently guided the dog onto the floor. He took no notice of Fred's pacing and whining. Grabbing Meredith, he yanked her upright and flush against his body. His arms locked her into place as his lips descended. Meredith braced herself for a harsh assault. Pushing him away didn't enter her mind, and she didn't question it. His mouth was soft and soothing, savoring the brush of their lips. Her mouth opened, inviting him in. The erotic glide of their tongues pushed air from Meredith's lungs to catch in her throat. "I dare you." Derek whispered the words against her lips.

Not sure if she was stunned or drugged, Meredith slowly sank back onto the couch as the door slammed shut. She raised a hand to the bottom swell of her lip. She and Fred were alone. Finally.


	13. Chapter 13

_Ch. 13 - Anger Management_

"So why can't Alex make it look like an accident?" Cristina grabbed the metal folding chair, spinning it so its back faced forward and provided support for her arms. Straddling the chair, she winced as the thick protective glass failed to totally keep the loud booming noise from the cocoon of their safety observation room. It was hell on her headache.

Izzie hide her irritation from Cristina. This part of the discussion of Meredith's problem had gone on too long. Any effort at politeness was always wasted on the small Korean woman. "Because he's sworn to protect and serve, Cristina. Killing isn't in the oath." From her position against the window, she had a good view of Meredith. She envied her steady hand.

"Jeez, what do you think 'protect' means? Don't you think his gun is overkill for a school crossing guard?"

Ignoring the insult to her husband, Izzie decided a change in topic was in order. "I am so glad you didn't burn all your photos." Her blond head tilted in the direction of the life-size, full-color figure seen off in the distance. Though she couldn't make out the details, Izzie knew what it represented. And the pleasure it was giving Meredith made her pretty damn happy.

Cristina shrugged. It wasn't like she had dozens of photo albums dedicated to Mr. Meredith Grey. Really, only a handful of snapshots she had tossed into a drawer and forgotten. "You're too emotional," Cristina clutched the Styrofoam coffee cup in her right hand. "You and Mer. She threw all her pieces of McAss in the far back corner of her closet and you burned yours. I kept mine handy. For moments like now."

Meredith gently set the gun down on the counter. Her body still reverberated with the harsh kick back of the gun's repeated discharge. Next came the protective gear. The earmuffs and eye gear weren't the most stylish, but they did the job. Reaching up, Meredith pressed a button. A grinding noise carried the target toward her. A life-size copy of Derek in one of his tuxedo-wearing finest moments. She could recall her excitement over the charity event, their first public outing as a married couple. The dress she had worn that evening also came to mind. Shopping with a personal stylist had been an interesting new experience, and yielded what became one of his favorite pieces of her wardrobe. Flowing green silk. Backless. Looking at Derek's image, Meredith could still feel the weight of his arm around her waist and the gentle glide of his fingers, toying with the skin at the base of her spine as he smiled at the photographer. Hidden under his jacket, her arm had slipped around his waist, and her fingers slid under the waistband of his slacks, lightly rubbing the fine cotton linen material of his shirt.

The sensual memory splintered at the sight of her well-placed bullet holes. Three in the chest, dangerously close to his heart. One to his forehead, and five destroying the zipper of his tailored slacks. She waited for the euphoria promised by Cristina, the happiness she'd feel for pointing a loaded gun at Derek and pulling the trigger. Repeatedly. Filling him full of bullet holes. Anger, more than Alex's lessons, led to her accuracy in nailing Derek's image. Meredith drew a deep breath and paused. She wasn't sure exactly what she felt at that moment. The anger from their argument drained away with each pull of the trigger, leaving a hollow space inside.

"Impressive." Cristina reached past Meredith to marvel at Derek's 'wounds.' She enjoyed shoving a pinky through his forehead. "It's a pity you didn't take out his hair. Hit him where it hurts the most."

"I did. His wallet would hurt the most. Can't you see the holes?"

"He carries his wallet in his penis?" Izzie counted the holes covering Derek's zipper.

"Must be that Franklin wrapped around a roll of Washingtons." Cristina snickered.

"Seriously Meredith," Izzie glanced at Meredith's discarded gun. The shooting range provided the still warm semi-automatic handgun. It looked too lethal for Izzie's comfort, and she didn't know how Meredith wasn't knocked off her feet by the recoil. She didn't care for guns and left them to Alex.

"Man, I wish Sheperd could see this. He'd sign and fly in no time." Cristina unclipped the target and held it up, admiring the multiple puncture wounds. "Can I take it to him?" Clutching the target to her chest like a favorite toy, she turned to Meredith. "Please?"

Frowning, Izzie placed the back of her hand against Cristina's forehead.

"What?"

"You said 'please.' You must be sick so I'm checking for fever."

"Shut up Blondie." Cristina batted her hand away "my head is ready to split open, but I'm not sick."

"Mer, how in the hell did you nail his…forehead? And how did you hit the target at all?" Izzie couldn't hide her admiration. "Alex spent a few hours showing us how to handle a gun. We didn't spend a lot of time shooting it. Have you been practicing without me?"

"Lucky, I guess." Meredith gathered up the gun and protective gear. "I haven't touched a gun since Alex forced us to watch him play gunslinger." He had been intent on teaching Meredith and Izzie a way to defend themselves, and they pleaded a preference to learn kickboxing instead.

"You haven't touched a gun in over two years?" Cristina rolled up the target. Her whistle of admiration followed Meredith and Izzie as they exited the shooting area. "I'd say it's good you're finally letting your anger out. Izzie, I need more coffee."

The quiet atmosphere of Java was soothing. Meredith felt guilty but thankful Izzie closed her doors for the rest of the afternoon. The coffee shop was all theirs. Her assistant Lauren had her marching orders. Field all calls, and keep work – including anyone looking for her - at bay. She'd deal with everything tomorrow. Work had saved her sanity before, and it would do it again. She'd bury herself in it and move on. Eventually. Again. With a mug of hot coffee in one hand, and a warm cupcake in the other, Meredith sighed, enjoying a moment of nirvana.

Izzie studied the plate of cupcakes before selecting one with vanilla frosting. "Mer?"

"Yes, Iz?"

"So are you going to do it?"

Meredith opened her mouth to say "of course not!" but couldn't vocalize the denial.

"Of course she's not letting Sheperd move in, Iz." Cristina drained her coffee mug, and reached for the thermal pot sitting on the table, next to the cupcake plate. "You think she really wants to help that bastard?"

Izzie's eyes narrowed as Meredith studied the contents of her mug. She recognized that mannerism. "I don't know. Do you Mer? Do you want to help him?"

"I am nuts. I know it. I am freaking certifiable." Meredith sighed. "Part of me wants to march him, at gun point, to that damn plane. And the other part..."

"I can guess which part is saying 'yes.'"

"Cristina! That part is not!" Meredith shifted in her seat.

"Oh come on, Mer. Look who you're talking to." Cristina retorted. "You've got to get hard core and kick his ass out of here. For once and for all."

"I think you should do it." Izzie shrugged as Cristina and Meredith looked at her. "No, I'm not crazy, and you know I hate him as much as you do, but if this will finally get rid of him, just do it. Tell him he has one week under the same roof as you. And if he doesn't remember anything, then tough shit. He gets the hell of out here. For good."

"You might be on to something Izzie," Cristina's tone told Meredith and Izzie she hated acknowledging it. "Because before he moves in for exactly seven days, McAss has to sign the papers. Sloan hands them over as they are boarding the plane on the eighth day."

"Oh, and Derek has to sign them in front of you!" Izzie smiled. "I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself for coming up with this."

"You?" Cristina gasped. "You came up with the whole thing?"

"Ok, you helped. A little."

"A little? Damn it Izzie, if I you didn't make such damn good coffee, I'd dump it in your lap."

"No way." Meredith sat back in her chair, arms crossed, tightly clasping. "I don't want him near me." A few hours in his company brought back memories and feelings she didn't want. Seven days and nights would be hell. On the eighth day, she'd be back in a fetal position.

"Why not?" Izzie asked.

Because of that damn kiss, Meredith groused. It pried open the door to the memories she had locked away. Feelings she didn't want to resurrect. Pain she couldn't handle a second time around.

"Oh no..." Izzie's words were drawn out as slowly as the realization.

"Oh no what?" Cristina spoke around a hunk of cupcake.

Their voices pulled Meredith back from the kiss. "'Oh no what' what?"

Izzie and Cristina shared a glace. "She's got that look."

"What look?" Meredith began to feel irritated.

Cristina grabbed Meredith's chin, turning her head from side to side. She studied Meredith's face. "I do believe you are right, Izzie. She's got it."

"What look are you two talking about?" Meredith pulled back from Cristina's hand.

"The look." Cristina cringed as she and Izzie spoke in unison. "God, I hate it when you do that."

"Don't make me go back for the gun. What look are you two talking about?"

"The 'just fucked' look. You and McAss had hot wild monkey sex." Cristina felt a moment of sadness for Meredith as her face turned a delicate shade of red. "Or he kissed you."

"I did not. We did not!" Meredith's protest was strong and sure. "We did not have sex."

"But he kissed you." Izzie reached for Meredith's hand as a single tear made its way down her cheek.

"Meredith..." Cristina's soft voice caused a second tear to fall.

"He...kissed me," Meredith sniffed. "He was mad. Fred was growling. I was throwing them out of my house and threatened to call his uncle. I just wanted him to go! But he grabbed me, and kissed me."

"And it hurts,"

Overwhelming sadness caused Meredith to turn toward Izzie and rest her head on her shoulder. "I don't want to feel again."

"Meredith, this might be your only chance to finally get rid of him. Legally and for good." Cristina moved around the small table to offer her own form of comfort. "Make him sign the papers, have Sloan hold them. Or I will. Give him a week so you can't be accused of seriously not trying. And at the end of it, I'll personally drag his ass back onto that plane."

"You can do this Mer," Izzie agreed. "I know it will be hard, but you can give him seven more days. And he'll give you freedom. I'm sure at this stage Mark will do everything he can to get Derek to sign."

"Maybe after his uncle gets him declared incompetent Mark can sign for him." Cristina theorized.

"You know, when we came back from Paris, I thought he was an imposter. I didn't know what happened to the Derek I fell in love with. The one who loved me. I still don't." Meredith sniffed. "I no longer existed, or mattered, to him. I took up space in his world, and was dusted off now and then for sex and social events."

"We remember, Mer." Cristina interrupted. "You don't have to rehash your marriage hell for our sake."

The pain of Derek's cold indifference as he buried himself in work was still razor sharp. She had grown close to her father-in-law, discovering the kind, decent man not portrayed in the press. Eleanor Sheperd had been too busy with her charities to notice the state of her son's marriage, but Michael gave Meredith the time and attention Derek didn't. He'd spoken of his plans for the future, looking forward to stepping back to spend more time with his wife and their anticipated grandchildren. Michael's kindness and understanding in putting a distraught Meredith on a private flight back to Sun Valley after she came to the realization that her empty marriage had to end meant the world to her. She recognized her obligation to try and help Derek for Michael's sake.

"Are you ok?" Izzie asked, concerned over the way Meredith sat staring into her coffee.

Drawing a deep breath, and holding onto it before exhaling, Meredith extended a hand towards her cell phone. She knew what she had to do.

[And for the disclaimers: 1) I've never handled a gun in my life, so if anything seems off in my descriptions, I'm sorry; 2) still not owning a piece of the show or it's characters. I'm sorry it's been so long between updates. I'm trying to get caught up on all my outstanding fics. Thanks for reading.]


	14. Chapter 14

[Many thanks to those who added _U_ to their alert list. Once again, I don't own any piece of GA. Just borrowing the characters for my own use since Shonda doesn't know what to do with them. I do thank her for creating them, though.]

_Ch. 14 - Home Sweet Home_

Mark unlocked the tall oak door, and gestured for Derek to enter. "I've always admired your taste in women and real estate." He paused, rethinking his statement. "Scratch that, not all your women. Those post-Meredith women were scary." Mark exaggerated his shudder, but not by much. Punching in the code to disable the security system he walked, with an air of familiarity, into the living room.

"What about the pre-Meredith women?" Derek paused before following Mark across the threshold. He had dreaded this moment. Walking into a house he apparently owned but had no memory of. During the drive over from the lodge he strained, without success, to recognize a foothill, a tree or a neighboring house. Right now his memory was a black hole the width and depth of the Grand Canyon. And only scattered glimpses of his marriage clung to the rim, somehow avoiding the rest of his life hiding at the bottom.

"Great racks, and they could string a few sentences together."

"When did you worry about conversation with a woman?" Derek chuckled at Mark's dry statement, and thought back to the press clippings. He had cut an embarrassingly wide path through the feminine upper echelon of New York society. The numerous faces had failed to dredge up any hint of his past. But they did foster a surprise touch of sadness at the number of bodies. What could he have been trying to accomplish, other than quantity? The pattern turbo-charged post-Meredith. Had it been to forget or compensate? Well, he had finally accomplished the former.

"I didn't," Mark shut the heavy door. "And neither did you. The ability to string together a few words wasn't a requirement. Legs and boobs were." Mark led Derek through the small foyer and into the living room.

"So this is…?" The place looked around 5,000 square feet. Cozy. Smaller than his penthouse back in Manhattan.

"Was. A marital asset. Well, one of them. Now it's just an asset."

His gaze darkened to indigo as it traveled about the room. Derek could easily picture Meredith here. The casually unpretentious style suited her. But the size didn't. "I picked this out, didn't I?"

Mark slowly set his keys on the coffee table, fearing any sudden movement would make this memory moment a falsehood. "Yeah. She wanted something smaller, but this was the only French Country house in the Valley, and you said she loved French Country."

More importantly, the house had reminded him of their honeymoon. He focused on the thought as it sputtered through the back of his mind. Derek drew comfort from its brief appearance. He drew hope.

"You remember that?" Mark noted how the frown on Derek's face contrasted with the release of tension from his shoulders. "Buying the house?"

"Sort of."

Mark moved about the space turning on lights. The obvious quality of the furnishings didn't detract from the stated comfort of the room. Sun Valley wasn't all that different from Vail in terms of wealth and the merchants catering to it. "Do you remember Meredith's reaction to this place?"

Instinctively, Derek knew she loved this house. And it wasn't a comforting thought. He trailed Mark as he worked the lights and opened curtains. "Did she come back here?"

Mark shook his head. "You told me to evict her and sell the house. Which was an interesting proposition considering you gave her the house and it was in her name."

"I did? Why would I do that to her?"

"Because she walked out and refused to come back to New York. She wanted you to come out here, and talk. You wanted her back in New York, and were dead set positive taking the house would do it."

"But it didn't." Derek stated the obvious.

"It didn't. From what I could tell, Mer never came back here. She went straight to the Karevs from the airport. Michael offered to buy the house for her but she turned him down."

The reference to his father threw Derek. Why would he offer to buy this house for Meredith? Again, he instinctively knew Meredith would never accept a gift of this magnitude. Not from someone other than her husband. "So who owns it now?"

"You do."

"I do? But you said I told you to sell it."

"We fought over it. I'd never do that to her, but you insisted. You threatened to fire me if I didn't do it." Mark didn't bother pointing out that Meredith avoided the house ever since, saying the subject was too painful. She had readily signed it back to Derek and Mark hid the property in a seldom-used Sheperd corporation. "I let you think the place was sold, and held onto it for when you came to your senses. You never did. I thought your habit of carrying grudges wouldn't extend to Meredith, but I was wrong."

"I hold grudges?" Derek walked into the center of the room, avidly studying its features. He knew it was wishful thinking, but Meredith's presence filled the room. The soft texture of the light cream walls complimented the neutral tone of the couch and the worn blue area rug covering the oak floor. The fireplace drew his interest. It looked well used. Did he and Meredith sit together on the couch, with the lights dimmed, watching the flames? He had a feeling the answer was 'yes.'

Mark struggled not to point out how his public exhibition of post-Meredith women underscored his vindictive grudge carrying, and took a seat on the couch. Derek's study the fireplace made him curious. "That's an understatement."

"An understatement?"

"Yeah. Understatement of the millennium." Mark pulled his ringing cell phone from his pocket. A glance at the display had him moving towards the kitchen. "Excuse me. I need to take this."

Nodding, Derek turned and noticed the kitchen divided from the living room by a breakfast bar. Mark had stopped before a second fireplace, which anchored the far end of the kitchen, listening intently to his caller. And an intimate table for two sat waiting for occupants. Thoughts of dinners by firelight made him grow warm, but were the thoughts real or wishful thinking? The entire living area exuded warmth. It was Meredith. How could he take this away from her? Why would she leave him? Derek seated himself at the breakfast bar.

Mark's animated conversation ended and he joined Derek at the breakfast bar. Setting his phone on the dark marble counter top, he rested both hands on the counter's edge. His fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm. "Did anything else come to mind?"

"Where are Meredith's things?" Derek's fingers sought out his scar as it began to ache again.

"Her friends came and packed up her belongings." Mark reached for his abandoned phone, sending it into a short spin. The call left him restless with a touch of fear thrown in. His caller was not one to make empty threats. Little Sloan could end up as Dead Sloan.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"I did."

"When?"

"In the report I kept telling you to read. " Mark answered, checking the time on his cell phone. "You ready to read it now?"

"Maybe" Derek shrugged. But he doubted he would ever crack open its cover. Hope made him believe reliving his history was better than reading about it. Meredith was his history. He had to find a way to make her relive it with him.

Mark took a deep breath. "Listen Derek. Contrary to what Eleanor says, I think facing your past will help bring it back. And since Meredith is part of your past, you need her for do this. Sitting and waiting for it to come to you won't cut it. Won't do it. You need be proactive about your recovery. So do as she asks and sign the damn papers."

Derek half listened to Mark's speech. Not well prepared, but not bad for speaking off the cuff. His courtroom speaking skills occasionally came in handy. "I actually agree about being proactive and Meredith. I'm ignoring what you said about the papers. But why are you still going on about it?"

"Because Meredith is…"

"Willing to do it only if you sign the damn papers or so help me I will knock your memory into place when I kick your ass back to New York."

[Thanks for reading!]


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